


Time Off For Bad Behaviour

by Dusty



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Age Play, But also filthy sex, But then sex so get ready, Discipline, Fluff, Fluff beyond the telling of it, I'm so tired I need GO rehab so badly, Light Dom/sub, Little Crowley, M/M, Non-Sexual Age Play, Snake Crowley (Good Omens), Top Aziraphale (Good Omens), mild spanking, the plot is thin as fuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-27 14:25:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19792765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dusty/pseuds/Dusty
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley experiment with mild age play, in which the demon is a very naughty boy and the angel takes good care of him. We join our heroes at an historic racing classic motoring event and things go from bad to worse. I died with a plot inside my throat.





	Time Off For Bad Behaviour

**Author's Note:**

> People asked for more Little Crowley. Here it is. 
> 
> Also, I keep seeing beautiful fanart with Crowley resting in Aziraphale's lap, so much of that inspired much of this. 
> 
> Here is one such image:
> 
> https://julielilac.tumblr.com/post/186226744120/crowley-falling-asleep-to-the-sound-of

Aziraphale had been so excited to hear about the motoring event. He knew Crowley loved fast cars - especially classic cars of course, and this was an historic festival with a vintage fun fair! Just like the ones they used to go to.

So there they were on the sunny Saturday afternoon, Crowley sauntering with disinterest and Aziraphale carrying a fully loaded picnic basket, as they strolled through the festival site looking for a space to set up their picnic.

Aziraphale was just eyeing up a grassy knoll when Crowley cracked open a can of Red Bull and started to chug it back.

‘Crowley!’ said Aziraphale. ‘Where did you get that?’

‘I’m thirsty and they had them over there,’ said Crowley, quite indignant. 'Gives you wings!'

‘You already have wings!' chided Aziraphale. 'And I’ve packed you a beautiful, healthful picnic.’ Crowley shrank a little in shame. He’d forgotten that. The angel plucked the noxious beverage out of the demon’s hands and miracled it away. ‘I will not have you drinking that dreadful concoction of stimulants.'

Crowley hung his head and peeped apologetically over his sunglasses. ‘Sorry. Forgot.’

‘Right,’ said Aziraphale, still quite the schoolteacher. ‘Well, follow me. I know where we can set up.’ Crowley trailed after him, a little dejected.

It was a perfect spot. Good view of the track, relaxing piano music floating from far away speakers, and so far not too crowded. Aziraphale laid out the blanket. Crowley knew to give him space while he was doing this, as everything had to be painstaking laid out, just so. The angel smiled appreciatively when he saw Crowley had meandered away to chat to some other festival goers. 

There was one party of picnickers close to them that was a little more boisterous than the rest. Crowley grinned and sauntered past them with a brief hello. They seemed largely unaware of his presence, but then collectively seemed to have the same idea, and one of them started fiddling with an ipad. 

Aziraphale looked around for Crowley once he’d set up the picnic, and grinned with delight when the demon noticed and hurried over to take his rightful place on the gingham blanket. The spread included strawberries, cucumber sandwiches, cheese and biscuits, homemade flapjacks, and tea in a flask. Aziraphale beamed with pride and handed Crowley some fresh lemonade. 

‘I made that myself. It’s organic and not too sweet.’

‘Yes, mother,’ teased Crowley.

‘ _Anthony_ ,’ warned Aziraphale, his voice low. 

The demon shivered. 

‘Are you going to behave or not?’

‘Um…’ said Crowley with a grimace, knowing what was coming.

On cue, the party next to them started blasting out Radio 1 through speakers, and shrieking as if they were in their own rave. Other friends and families looked on in disgust. 

Aziraphale gasped and looked at Crowley, realising what had happened. ‘Why did you do that?’ he asked crossly. ‘There’s no need for temptations and certainly not here. You’re spoiling the mood!’

Crowley shrugged. ‘Old habits die hard.’ He chuckled. ‘Look how angry everyone is now.’

Aziraphale huffed in exasperation, and without taking his eyes off Crowley, snapped his fingers. Just like that, the damned device, and every one near it, sustained a dead battery. Some people nearby applauded the quiet, and the mellow sounds of piano music returned to drift lightly around the festival site.

Crowley sighed and reached for a strawberry, but the angel saw an opportunity and intercepted his wrist. He pulled it behind the open lid of the picnic basket. Timed perfectly with someone popping a cork, Aziraphale discreetly gave the back of Crowley’s hand a sharp smack. 

The demon hissed. 

‘That was unnecessary,’ scolded Aziraphale quietly. ‘You behave yourself or we’ll go straight home. And you won’t like what happens when we get there, either.’

Crowley sheepishly sat up and tried to conduct himself a little better. He really tried to be good. He made sure he openly enjoyed the picnic food, especially the lemonade, and tried very hard not to see opportunities for mischief. 

He was doing very well. One hour later and he hadn’t burst any of the children’s balloons, or encouraged seagulls to steal anyone’s sandwiches. He was also a very bored demon. He sprawled on the blanket. 

‘Aziraphale, I’m _really_ bored.’

‘You said you liked cars.’

‘Not if I can’t drive them.’

‘All right,’ said Aziraphale patiently. ‘I’d like to stay for just a bit longer - there are quite a few attractions I’d like to see. Then we can pop into that driving school on the way home and see if they have any places on their stunt driving course. Would you like that?’

Crowley gave an impish grin and gave Aziraphale an almost violent kiss on the cheek. ‘Can we go now?’ he asked excitedly. 

Aziraphale gave him a look and pointed a finger. ‘No, I already told you, another hour because I want to see a bit more. Behave,’ he warned.

The demon rolled over and lay in the sunshine, thinking he may as well take a nap, bored by the lame air show above. He snoozed for a good few minutes before something tickled his face. 

Ants. He hated ants. They reminded him of Beelzebub. He reached for a napkin and started squashing as many as he could find. 

Aziraphale was very much enjoying the air show and his sandwiches, but was overcome with delight when the magician, who’d been going from family to family in the park, set up just by them to perform some clever bits and pieces. 

‘Crowley, look! A magician!’

‘Great,’ groaned Crowley, still committing genocide. 

Aziraphale glanced over at him and did a double take. ‘What are you doing?’

‘Ants,’ said Crowley with disgust. Aziraphale stilled the demon’s hand. ‘Stop that!’ he hissed. Crowley pouted and rolled onto his stomach. He’d got quite a few of the ants anyway. In the distance, he heard the sound of the classic race cars zipping by. People having so much more fun than he was. And he'd already been told off no less than three times now. _Boring_. 

* * *

Aziraphale clapped as hard as he could. It was the best signed card trick he’d ever seen, and he was full of new ideas about how he could develop his magician skills. He turned to Crowley to insist that this magician was really very good, and experienced cold shiver of dread at finding the blanket unoccupied. 

The announcements which he’d been ignoring in favour of tuning in to magic tricks suddenly came through loud and clear.

‘Who is this speed demon?’ asked the announcer. ‘Woah! He nearly took out Sanders!’

Aziraphale glanced around, and confident that everyone was distracted, miracled the picnic neatly back into the basket, and scurried to the trackside. 

‘300 miles per hour! You heard it here first folks!’

In a flash, a red Alfa Romeo shot past Aziraphale and through the finish line, before entering into a blur of a spin and crashing into the nearby woods.

‘Crowley!’ cried Aziraphale, dashing over to the woods as fast as he could.

He arrived, out of breath and flustered despite the little miracle he performed to get himself there ahead of the crowds, to find a team of festival wardens looking very confused, standing around what appeared to be an abandoned race car. 

‘He’s done a runner!’ called one of the men. ‘Must have gone that way!’

‘Oh,’ said Aziraphale. ‘I’ll stay here and mind the vehicle if you want to look for him.’ He gave them his best sunny smile, and they all smiled back, feeling a little happier about things. 

‘Come on!’ called one of them, and they took off to find their speed demon. Aziraphale, however, knew exactly where that demon was. He peered into the car. Sure enough, underneath the pedals was a sheepish looking snake. He was smaller than the angel had ever seen him before. 

‘ _Naughty_ ,’ scolded Aziraphale. He caught him gently by the neck and squirrelled him into the picnic basket, with Crowley’s black tail wagging in protest. Then he miracled them to the car park before they could be seen. He was fuming, so he decided to keep tight lipped until he felt a little calmer.

* * *

Aziraphale, now very comfortable with the Bentley, drove them home, leaving the snake to think about what he had done. He was still quietly cross, but put on Queen’s _I Was Born To Love You_ on repeat as he saw them home safely.

I was born to love you

With every single beat of my heart

Yes, I was born to take care of you

Every single day of my life

The snake popped its head up expectantly out of the basket as they passed the driving school. 

‘Oh absolutely not, after your behaviour today,’ came the reprimand. 

The snake sank back down and didn’t emerge again. The basket quivered once or twice during the journey, especially on the line ‘I was born to take care of you’. When they were waiting at the lights, Aziraphale opened the lid of the basket and peeped in. The snake had nestled into a sulk underneath the angel’s favourite cheese biscuits. 

Aziraphale gave a disapproving sigh and popped the lid back down.

Once home, Aziraphale carried the picnic basket with care into the bookshop and put it down on the desk. He opened the lid and carefully lifted out the moping reptile. He sat down on the sofa, and settled the small snake-shaped Crowley in his lap. Aziraphale couldn’t help but pet him, just a little. The demon looked up at him, then coiled around in a circle a few times until he was comfortable. He rested his head on the angel’s thigh as if about to have a pleasant nap in front of a fireplace.

‘I’m waiting,’ said Aziraphale firmly, having none of it.

A moment passed, then just like that, Crowley was man-shaped again, lying on his tummy over Aziraphale’s thighs. He rested his head on a sofa cushion and gazed back up at the angel, who continued to stroke his hair and neck. Crowley purred.

‘Where do you belong?’ asked the angel delicately.

‘In your lap,’ murmured Crowley.

‘And why are we here?’

‘I was naughty.’

‘Hmm…’ intoned Aziraphale, still lightly stroking the demon’s neck. ‘You were wicked, foolish, and disobedient. And you spoiled a perfectly nice afternoon, even after I offered to take you somewhere else.’

Crowley buried his face in the cushion with a snuffle. 

The ticking off continued. ‘What you did was very dangerous. I cannot allow you to put your life at risk.’

‘It wasn’t at risk!’ whined Crowley.

‘Quiet!’ admonished Aziraphale. 

A sulky sigh from the demon.

‘You’re getting a spanking and then straight to bed.’ The angel’s hands went for Crowley’s belt buckle, and the demon tried to pull away. Aziraphale simply tugged him back into position, whipping the jeans and underwear down to the demon’s knees in a swift miracle. 

Crowley gasped in anticipation. One warm hand clamped him around the waist. The other whooshed through the air, striking his bare bottom in a sharp swat. 

The demon tried to wiggle out of the way as more swats came.

‘Stay still,’ said the angel sternly, continuing to spank his demon.

_smack smack smack smack smack smack smack smack smack_

‘Ow ow ow ow!’ wailed Crowley, twisting in Aziraphale’s lap. The angel held him all the tighter, and spanked him all the harder. The demon’s behind was going very pink.

‘You do _not_ sneak away from me, you do _not_ steal cars, you do _not_ drive at 300 miles per hour, and if you crash, you _do_ _not_ run away.’

_Smack smack smack smack smack_

‘Ow! I didn’t run away!’ cried Crowley. ‘Angel, please! It hurts!’

_smack smack smack smack smack_

‘You don’t shrink into a snake and hide, then! You face up to your mistakes.’

‘Ow ow ow ow!’ complained Crowley shamelessly. 

Aziraphale stopped and lightly rubbed the demon’s back.

‘What do you say?’ asked the angel. 

‘Sorry,’ muttered Crowley miserably into the sofa cushion. 

‘Why are you sorry?’

‘Because you’re smacking my bottom.’ 

The brazen cheek earned him a hard, no nonsense swat that made him buck in Aziraphale’s lap. It stung like hell. 

‘OW! I’m sorry! I _am_ sorry, because I should have waited for you. I only meant to have a look. It was just… tempting.’

‘Well I need you to do better,’ said Aziraphale, not hiding his displeasure. 

Crowley hiccoughed into a dry sob, shrinking closer into his angel.

‘...sorry,’ he rasped. 

‘You need to remember what happens when you misbehave.’

Another little sob. Aziraphale was struggling to stay firm. He stroked Crowley's hair. ‘Poor thing. I wasn’t paying enough attention to you, was I. Or letting you run around. Spoiled brat.’

There was a sniff, and Crowley drew himself in as small as he could, curling into the angel’s touch. A further sob escaped and that was it - he was snake-shaped again.

‘Ah,’ said Aziraphale lovingly. ‘Spoiled snake.’

The snake rubbed his face against the angel’s hand, and Aziraphale petted him softly for several long minutes, until the tense little coil of gloom started to relax again. He especially warmed to the caresses around his neck, and without thinking, flexed his head up for a chin tickle.

Aziraphale chuckled. ‘Feeling better?’ he asked. 

The snake looked at him and then hung his little head. Next thing Aziraphale knew, Crowley was sitting in his lap with his arms around him. The angel took a deep breath as if leaning into a yawn, and his big white wings sprung up and swaddled the chastised demon in his lap. 

‘You were very naughty today,’ breathed Aziraphale into Crowley’s ear. ‘I don’t like to be severe with you, but you forced my hand. And now you’re going to bed.’

There was a sort of mumble, and the sinewy arms tightened around the angel. Aziraphale was trying his best not to outright cradle his spoiled demon. In the end, he just _had to_ , and he miracled them to their bed upstairs. 

* * *

They stayed for a long time in the cocoon of white fluffy feathers, with the angel comforting Crowley until he was relaxed enough to fall into a slumber. Aziraphale switched their clothing over to night-time regalia: ethereal boxer shorts. White cotton with golden wings for him, and black cotton with little green snakes for Crowley. 

The demon snuggled up closer. 

‘Crowley,’ said Aziraphale eventually, whispering in his ear. ‘I need you to try to stay human-shaped when you’re in trouble. I’ll understand if you can’t help it, but I’d like you to be brave. Remember I’ll never do anything you don’t want me to do if you say our word.’

Crowley took one of the angel’s hands and squeezed it. ‘I’ll try,’ he whispered. 

‘Good, because I need to know you’re not that scared of me.’

‘I promise,’ said the demon with a gentle nuzzle. 

‘Good,’ said Aziraphale. ‘Then shall we continue?’ 

Crowley nodded into the crook of Aziraphale’s neck, and the angel kissed his forehead.

Aziraphale took a deep breath. ‘We need to talk about the rest of your punishment.’ 

‘Nooo,’ grumbled Crowley half-heartedly. 

‘Yes, little one,’ said Aziraphale. ‘You are grounded for the next two days. You are not to leave the shop, and you are not to leave my sight. You stay where I can see you. If you need to do your business, you ask permission.’

Crowley _almost_ blushed, but settled on scowling into Aziraphale’s shoulder. 

The angel continued to lay the law. ‘You will dust and polish every shelf. And you are strictly forbidden to use any miracles to get the job done.’

There was a squeak of protest and a wriggle. 

Aziraphale’s tone became quite stern. ‘If you do perform a miracle, I will know.’

A snuffle from the demon. 

‘Now,’ said Aziraphale, a little softer. ‘If you can be a good boy for me over the next two days, I might be inclined to reconsider putting you on that stunt driving course. But you put one foot out of line, you can forget it. Is that clear?’

He felt a pout form against his neck.

‘I asked you a question, Crowley,’ he cautioned. 

Crowley lifted his crumpled face and nodded miserably. 

‘Good boy. Now I’d like you to go to sleep.’

‘Too early!’ protested Crowley. 

‘It’s been weeks, and you will do as you’re told, or you know what I’ll do.’

Crowley groggily rested his head back on the angel’s shoulder. 

‘That’s better,’ said the angel. ‘I’m going to read (he miracled The Taming of the Shrew into one hand), and you’re going to sleep. If you get up or start playing up, I shall be very cross indeed.

‘I won’t,’ said Crowley, quite sweetly. Sleep suddenly felt like the best idea ever. He allowed himself to lie limply in Aziraphale’s arms, and fall into the best sleep he could remember in the feathery cocoon.

* * *

Aziraphale had dozed off somewhere in the middle of the play, and was dimly aware of feeling exceptionally cosy, but for an odd draft in his feathers. _No Crowley._

The angel was immediately awake, and stalked through the upper floor looking for his demon. A strange sound led him downstairs.

Crowley was sitting cross legged in front of his laptop, with one of Aziraphale’s little potted plants, watching a video on YouTube. The plant was trembling. Crowley was grinning at the footage, which was of a tree surgeon, who looked oddly like Crowley, lopping branches off a beautiful tree. 

‘Anthony!’ said Aziraphale sharply, and the demon flinched and quickly closed the laptop lid. 

Aziraphale looked cross. Crowley quickly stood and dashed to the side to stand with his back against a wall and defend his bottom. 

The angel gave him a hard stare, but instead went straight for the little plant. ‘There there,’ he said to the shrub as he picked it up, and walked it back over to its home. He gave one of the leaves a light tickle as he apologised to the frightened plant and kissed it goodnight. 

He returned to Crowley who was still standing in front of the wall, squirming with his hands over his bottom. 

‘Back into bed this instant.’

The demon scampered upstairs and into the bedroom double quick, but swiftly decided that the bed was for jumping on. That Red Bull really had given him wings. He started bouncing up and down. As the angel arrived in the room, Crowley grabbed a pillow.

‘Pillow fight!’ he declared. 

Aziraphale had a job to remain stern. ‘Crowley, no!’ he said, as firmly as he could. 

‘Crowley yes!’ cried Crowley. He jumped higher and threw the pillow towards the angel, who had made a move to intercept Crowley and not accounted for a projectile. The pillow hit Aziraphale square in the face. 

Crowley gasped and jumped off the bed. ‘I didn’t mean it!’ he squealed. Then he ran for it. 

Aziraphale had not planned to be chasing a demon around his home at 2am. The rascal was starting to enjoy the chase, somehow forgetting he was in trouble, and instead lapsing into giggles as he got Aziraphale to pursue him around the whole upstairs of the shop. 

The put out angel eventually caught him around the middle when he’d tried to hide under some fluffy towels. The demon was hauled back into the bedroom. Expending all that energy had made Crowley a little more compliant, and the angel was able to deposit him onto the bed. He pulled the covers up.

‘No no no!’ said Crowley, kicking the covers back off. 

That was enough. Aziraphale deftly tugged his _dear boy_ over his lap, pulled the boxers down and gave him a _big_ smack on the bottom. 

‘Ow!’

‘What did I tell you about behaving over the next two days?’ asked Aziraphale crossly.

‘Starts tomorrow!’ 

Another smack, on the leg.

‘Ow!’

‘That’s not what I said.’

‘Yes it is!’ blubbed Crowley. ‘And it’s not my fault, it’s the Red Bull!’

Another smack, on the other leg.

‘Ow!’

‘ _That_ ,’ said Aziraphale, his voice raised minutely, ‘is _exactly_ your fault!’

Three sharp smacks, on the bottom.

Crowley didn’t protest, but for a whimper, and didn’t shrink into his snake form, but stayed in place like a picture of contrition, flopped in the angel’s lap. Aziraphale was relieved. He stroked his hair.

‘Right,’ he said, still stern. ‘I will give you the benefit of the doubt, in case that was a miscommunication. But your good behaviour begins now, and no buts. You start your duties in the shop tomorrow morning. And you go to sleep _now_.’

‘ _Okay_ ,’ acquiesced the demon, peace taking him over. He let Aziraphale pull him back into that magical winged cocoon, and returned to a deep sleep.

* * *

The following two days were, curiously, a real pleasure for both of them. There was one hairy moment that first morning where Crowley had huffed loudly, half way through dusting the romantic fiction section, and Aziraphale thought he seemed dangerously close to cheating with a little miracle. So without a word he took Crowley by the hand and led him over to his desk. Remaining very serious, the angel had opened a drawer and pulled out an old fashioned heavy wooden ruler. 

Crowley had looked at the ruler then stared at Aziraphale in disbelief, just like he had when the angel had raised the flaming sword at him in threat. _He wouldn’t, would he_ , said the big yellow eyes.

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow, tapped his own hand with the ruler to demonstrate the weight and thwack, and then turned the ruler over so that Crowley could read the writing on it. The name _Crowley_ was engraved exquisitely in gold leaf, the work of heavenly calligraphy. The demon swallowed. The damn thing literally had his name on it. 

Aziraphale gave him a pointed look and popped the ruler back in the drawer, then folded his arms and waited. A very sorry looking demon traipsed back over to the romance section, and Aziraphale didn’t have any trouble from him after that. 

With no distractions afforded, and Crowley not daring to misbehave, the bookshop got a delightful spring clean, and then demon found his mind strangely peaceful. Aziraphale took care of every detail, and the former troublemaker took to resting in his lap whenever he could, listening to the angel’s reading of a story or poem. 

* * *

An evening later that week, Crowley sighed contentedly into Aziraphale’s thigh. The angel’s fingers were resting in the red hair as he read The Selfish Giant aloud as a reward for good behaviour. He noticed the first stir of restlessness in days. 

‘Are you all right?’ asked Aziraphale softly. 

Crowley looked up at him and broke out into his best impish grin. It was this particular grin that usually signalled he wasn’t so little anymore. Aziraphale put the book down as Crowley shuffled up closer to him. 

‘Thank you,’ breathed the demon, and he planted a tender kiss on the angel’s lips. Then another, and another, until they were kissing passionately. 

Aziraphale pulled him close. ‘Sit between my knees,’ he said simply. Crowley obliged, wedging himself between the angel’s warm thighs like sinking into a heavenly armchair. Aziraphale wrapped his arms around him and Crowley rested his head back so the angel could continue to kiss him. Heat and need grew between them. 

Aziraphale slid one hand into Crowley’s crotch to cup and caress the growing bulge. Crowley parted his legs a little, and rutted against the pressure, hardening quickly. He moaned into his angel’s mouth and the kiss became wickedly fervent. 

Angelic fingers deftly unzipped Crowley’s fly, and retrieved a very keen erection. Aziraphale hummed with approval and glee as he delicately pulled back and forth with his finger and thumb.

He broke off the kiss. ‘Just relax,’ he intoned. Crowley rolled his head on the angel’s shoulder and surrendered to his ministrations. He could never believe how much more sensitive he was after they’d been playing for a few days. It was like every touch was charged just that little bit more - every motion some kind of black magic. The only sounds were the deep, ragged breaths between them and soft _fapping_ as Aziraphale quickened his movements. 

‘That’s it, good boy,’ Aziraphale said, silkily. ‘There’s my good boy.’

Crowley’s breaths broke into throaty moans. The angel held him tight with his other hand as he pleasured him, conscious of Crowley thrusting quicker and panting frantically.

‘Angel!’ warned Crowley. 

Aziraphale kissed his neck.’I know. _Good boy_.’

Crowley’s hips left the sofa as he thrust up in a powerful orgasm, arching back with a succession of cries and shooting semen all over his black top. Aziraphale stroked him dry, taking in the desperately filthy vision with a lick of his lips, as his own breath stuttered and face reddened. 

Crowley eventually sagged to the side. Aziraphale lay him down on the sofa, belly up, as if putting him down for a nap. 

The demon looked up at him. There was Aziraphale, leaning right over him, utterly dishevelled, flushed, fluffy hair somehow chaotic, and an impressive tent in the crotch of his trousers. Crowley groaned, speedily unfastening everything and getting it out of the way to help his hopelessly aroused angel to freedom. And there it was, gloriously engorged, already leaking. 

Aziraphale was looking at him, breathless, with a question in his eyes. Crowley nodded, understanding what he wanted, and the angel supported his weight on one hand while the other wrapped around his throbbing erection. He started to pleasure himself hastily. 

Already a devastating mess, Crowley simply gazed up at his angel, and watched and waited. Aziraphale’s blue-green eyes were foggy, his pink lips parted, and his wrist was starting to move at an impossible speed. He was looking right back down at Crowley with a long stare, just a hint of predator, and underneath all of that, betraying how much he loved watching over his demon.

Crowley added a sultry smoulder to the eye contact and the angel moaned loudly. Aziraphale pointed his straining member at Crowley’s chest as if he were pointing a cannon at a target, and Crowley grunted in anticipation. 

‘Oh _angel_ ,’ said Crowley, lying back in submission. 

Aziraphale screwed up his face and bit his lip as the ecstasy surged through him and splashed all over Crowley in jets - his mouth, chin, throat, and pooling with the demon’s emission on the chest and tummy. Crowley’s tongue dashed out to taste it, and to complete the look _he knew_ the angel was going for. Aziraphale grunted at the sight, his hips still rocking, as he continued to milk himself with little gasps. 

They shared dopey grins before giving into post-orgasmic bliss and a sudden need to miracle away the mess. 

Once somewhat recovered, they lay naked together, limbs and wings entangled. 

Crowley kept giving Aziraphale sly looks.

‘What?’ asked the angel, finally.

‘Nothing,’ said Crowley with a shrug. ‘I just understand now why everything has to be so clean in here all the time. Filthy mind like yours. You must be constantly trying to rebalance things.’

‘Crowley!’ blushed Aziraphale, his feathers contracting ever so slightly.

‘Filthy. Utterly, utterly filthy.’ Crowley broke out into a wolfish grin. 

Aziraphale regarded him cooly. ‘You’re not too old to put across my knee, you know.’

‘Oh, I know,’ said Crowley sweetly, and he cuddled up to his angel with a contented purr. 


End file.
